


More common in children aged 3 to 12.

by VoiceOfNurse



Series: Que Sera [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginary Octopus, Inspired by Fanfiction, Motion Sickness, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiceOfNurse/pseuds/VoiceOfNurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d seen a video once, on Clint’s computer, of an octopus in a little glass tank that had squeezed itself out of a tiny hole and escaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More common in children aged 3 to 12.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Little Interludes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705493) by [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot). 



> Got bit by a plot bunny while reading Lauralot's excellent work, and couldn't get this out of my head. The original prompt included a flashback and had far less cephelopod, but sometimes these things run away with you...

By the time he realises just how much he doesn’t like riding in the back of the car, Daddy has already strapped him in and started the engine. He sort of wants to tell Daddy to stop, to let him out, because he doesn’t want to go to the beach if he has to ride in the back of the car to get there, but then he remembers how happy Daddy looked when he talked about going away for the weekend and he just can’t. Only bad little boys whine about being taken on vacation, after all.

Bucky Bear is no help; all he’ll say on the matter is that Daddy is a good driver. Well, Bucky knows that. He doesn’t for a moment think that Daddy would be anything but an excellent driver, but that doesn’t stop the sick, squirmy feeling that’s started in his tummy getting worse every time they take a corner.

“It was nice of Pepper to invite us down to Malibu for the weekend, don’t you think?” Daddy says from upfront. He’s smiling, Bucky can hear it in his voice. He wonders, for a moment, just how long it’s been since Daddy has been on vacation. How much of the time he would normally spend on vacation is now taken up with looking after Bucky.

“Um.” He’s been asked a question, and he knows he should answer it, but he kind of wants to tell Daddy that he can’t think of anything worse than going to Malibu right now. He wants to ask Daddy to turn the car around, take him back to the tower and maybe read to him until he feels better. But even if he wasn’t worried about being bad, he doesn’t want to take the happiness out of Daddy’s voice, not when it’s been so long since he heard it last.

Daddy’s been stressed. He’s had a lot to worry about. He’s _cried_. Bucky would be the very worst sort of bad if he told Daddy that he’d changed his mind and wanted to go home now that they’re already on the way. Not when he had over a week to say no, and didn’t.

Bucky Bear takes a moment to inform him that it’s okay to change his mind, it’s allowed, but Bucky isn’t sure he believes him. Bucky Bear is smart, really smart, and never changes his mind about anything. Mostly because he’s a very competent bear, and can make the right decision in an instant. Bucky gets a little bit jealous sometimes, because even with the medicine he still feels confused more often than not, but Bucky Bear is his friend and something tells him that it’s not really very kind to be jealous of your friends.

“We could make sandcastles?” It’s a question, rather than the answer he wanted to give, but Daddy doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks away from the road for a second to smile at Bucky. It’s a big smile, a really happy one; Bucky definitely can’t ask to go back to the tower now, even though it feels like there’s an octopus trapped in his belly.

“Yeah, Buck, we can make sandcastles.” It sort of feels as though the octopus wants to climb out, especially when Daddy smiles at him like that, and he has to swallow against the sensation of tentacles crawling up his throat. He presses his hand against his middle, almost hard enough to hurt, but he can’t feel anything through the thick hooded sweater he’s wearing. Daddy doesn’t ask what he’s doing, because Daddy’s already got his eyes back on the road. A good driver, just like Bucky Bear said.

He’s starting to feel kind of shivery, off-balance. He tries to close his eyes, but that just makes him dizzy; he hunches over and looks at Bucky Bear instead. The bear looks worried, his little stitched on mouth and half-bead eyes concerned. Bucky Bear doesn’t think it’s very healthy, to have an octopus in your belly. For a creature that only eats honey via osmosis, he’s very wise, and knows a lot about the awful things that happen to people who eat live octopuses, apparently.

Bucky thinks he’d probably remember eating an octopus, especially an alive one. The very idea of it makes him feel all shaky and nauseous; he doesn’t want to put anything into his mouth at all, most days, let alone something salty and pulsating and alive. He swallows. There’s suddenly far too much saliva in his mouth, and he sort of wants to spit it out, but if he swallows it all, perhaps the octopus will have something to swim in, and will stop trying to climb out. It can’t be very nice swimming in the oatmeal that he had for breakfast, after all…

Somehow, his hand has worked its way under the jumper to press against his skin. Bucky can feel cool, clammy flesh and a fluttering pulse; he digs his fingers in a little further, trying to find the octopus, but all it does is make him gag. He pulls his hand away, suddenly anxious. He feels sick. He’s been feeling sick since the car started, but in an abstract, unsettled sort of way; now he feels as though he might actually throw up all over his shoes.

“Are you okay? Bucky, you okay?” Daddy can’t look round; they’re on the freeway and there are too many other cars. It also means that he can’t pull over; Bucky swallows a few more times, tries to focus and not be naughty. Crying is manipulative, but getting sick in the car will get him into trouble and they can’t pull over- tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he forces them back. He wants so badly to be good.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t feel fine. He doesn’t even sound fine anymore. The Asset would have been able to sound fine; the Asset had done all sorts of awful things and still been able to talk normally, but the Asset is nowhere to be found and probably shouldn’t be thought about around Daddy anyway. Bad things happen when the Asset comes out around Daddy, it’s why he’s not allowed to touch knives. The Asset likes knives rather a lot, but only bad boys play with sharp objects…

Daddy obviously doesn’t believe him; he starts to say something, probably trying to find out what the matter is, but Bucky doesn’t hear him because all of a sudden the octopus decides that it’s done being in Bucky’s belly. It’s sudden and unstoppable and terrifying, because he normally has at least some warning before getting sick. That’s normally part of the problem, because he worries so much about getting sick that he panics and hyperventilates, and that just makes it inevitable.

This time is different. This time Daddy says, “Bucky, do you need-?” and the car changes lane and sways just so and suddenly Bucky is heaving up water and oatmeal and what feels like everything he’s ever eaten _ever_ all over himself and the back of the car. It’s disgusting and it just doesn't stop, even when there’s nothing left for him to throw up and he’s left doubled up, retching. There’s a nasty little string of something slimy coming from his nose, choking him. _Probably the octopus_ , he thinks, somewhat hysterically.

He’d seen a video once, on Clint’s computer, of an octopus in a little glass tank that had squeezed itself out of a tiny hole and escaped. It had started with just a tentacle, but more had soon followed and it had flattened itself out into a rubbery tube and squished out despite being much bigger than the orifice that it was escaping through. Bucky heaved again, swiping frantically at his nose just in case there really was an octopus there. He could remember very distantly that the Asset used to have things put down his nose on occasion, long tubes that made him gag and filled his stomach with unknown liquids.

The thought of that has him heaving again, but there really is nothing left down there to come up, so it just hurts. There are tears on his face now, but he can’t stop them coming; he can barely breathe with how much his muscles are spasming, and behind it all he knows he’s going to be in so much trouble.

All at once there are hands on him and he struggles, because he doesn’t want to be punished, he didn’t mean it, but the seatbelt is trying to strangle him and his stomach is still trying to turn itself inside out. He can’t escape; a frantic whimper works its way out of him, because he’s crying in earnest now and that’s almost as naughty as getting sick, but not quite, because making a mess is worse than being manipulative. He’s dirty, disgusting-

“Bucky. Hey, I’ve got you, come on. Breathe for me, Bucky. It’s okay.” Daddy. Somehow, the car has stopped and Daddy is in the back with him, kneeling down on the seat and trying to get Bucky to look at him. The little part of him that can still think thinks he should push Daddy away, because he’s in such a horrible mess, but Daddy’s already got vomit all over his hands and he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact, he’s trying to coax Bucky closer.

He didn’t notice the seatbelt coming off, but suddenly he’s being scooped out of the back of the car (hot and stuffy and smells of sick) and settled sideways in the front seat with his legs hanging out of the door. Daddy’s right there in front of him, crouching on the hard shoulder, looking kind and worried and not at all mad, despite the mess Bucky has managed to make of everything.

He sobs a little, because he feels horrible and he’s ruined everything, but Daddy just takes the back of his head in one massive, strong hand and pulls it down to his shoulder. It’s warm, and dark, and disarmingly comforting even when he’s covered in sick. Bucky closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries to listen to Daddy.

“I’m not mad, okay? Nothing about this is even remotely your fault. You can’t help what your body does. You can’t just decide not to get sick, nobody can, not even me.” Bucky thinks that he can remember a time when Steve was sick a lot, despite how badly he wanted to be well, but it’s hazy and his head hurts too much to try and hang on to the memory. He snuffles a bit into the soft fabric and tries not to think about anything at all.

His Daddy understands that it’s too much right now (his words won’t work) and doesn’t ask him to say anything. He just strokes Bucky’s hair the same way he does when it’s clean and not sweaty and possibly contaminated with regurgitated oatmeal. “That’s right. That’s it. You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.” Daddy sounds like he means it. Bucky doesn't really understand how anyone can be proud when they’ve got somebody else’s sick on their shirt, but he’s too tired to question it. He wants to close his eyes and make the world go away for a little while. Daddy seems to understand that too, because rather than making Bucky sit up and change into the spare clothes that they have in the trunk he just stays exactly where he is and tells Bucky how well he’s doing.

Rationally, he knows that they can’t stay on the hard shoulder forever, that he’ll have to get into clean clothes soon and the car will need to be mopped up before it starts to smell even worse than it already does. But for the moment Daddy isn’t going anywhere, and there’s a comforting pocket of darkness nestled up against Daddy’s neck that’s just the right size for Bucky to hide his face. Just for the moment, he tries not to worry about anything, and let Daddy take care of him. 


End file.
